Prioritizing
by breeeliss
Summary: Was he not equipped to balance responsibilities and love? She seemed to think that he was, but he felt like having to choose between such extremes was merely an occupational hazard he couldn't avoid. Gen-fic. Concealed characters. Submission for the April Competition at the AtLAFC forum.


**Title: **Prioritizing

**Rating: **K+

**Words: **2927

**Summary: **Was he not equipped to balance responsibilities and love? She seemed to think that he was, but he felt like having to choose between such extremes was merely an occupational hazard he couldn't avoid. Gen-fic. Concealed characters. Submission for the April Competition at the AtLAFC forum.

**a/n: **Submission for the April Competition at the AtLAFC forum. This month's theme was **no names. **In other words, I can't use any names in this story, nor can I use any of the character drop downs. Basically, **the characters in the story are meant to be figured out as you go**. So hopefully I made things a little ambiguous with some clues dropped in to help you guess who's talking. Thanks in advance for all the feedback.

**OOO**

_Prioritizing_

**OOO**

"You know, you're supposed to be socializing."

He looked up from his half-full plate of food and watched as she began to approach his table where he had just been eating his meal. Admittedly, he'd been so concerned with trying to nibble at his food and moving the leftovers around on his plate to abate his boredom that he hadn't noticed his new companion. He had seen her at the beginning of the function, melding well into the crowd — something he hadn't quite expected — but she'd disappeared amongst the masses for much of the evening. Now that everyone had abandoned the dinner table and had begun dancing, he finally had the chance to speak with her.

She picked up her long dress in order to keep from stepping on the hem as she sat down. He couldn't remember ever seeing her dressed in such a way in a very long time — he and his friends so rarely got the opportunity to attend such formal functions — and couldn't help but smile in her presence. "I don't believe me being social was a requirement."

She smiled suspiciously. "I sort of think it is. This is _your_ party, after all. In your honor. You should _feel_ honored."

He shrugged and relaxed into his chair, finally feeling comfortable enough to do so. "I don't know. I've never been a fan of crowds, especially crowds that just seem set on fawning over me. It can get a little suffocating."

Her hands were in her lap, fiddling with the large sleeves ending past her wrists. "Yeah, that's why I came over here. Dinner was hectic enough with people constantly leaning over to me and asking me questions I didn't even know the answers to. It's amazing how much people look to you for hope and guidance even though you can't really give it."

He sighed and looked at those very crowds of people, seeming to be leaving him and his companion alone now that they all saw the two of them were engaged in what they all probably thought was a dire and important conversation. He hadn't gone up to the woman during this entire festive affair, but he realized he probably should have approached her sooner. Aside from the fact that familiar company was always nice, she proved to be a brilliant buffer for the very attention he was trying to avoid.

Still, her words caused a slight pang in his chest that reminded him of matters he would have rather forgotten. "Yeah. Ever the reservoirs of wisdom and guidance, huh?"

She immediately picked up on his tone. "Well, someone sounds a little bitter." He wasn't surprised that she noticed. She'd always been perceptive of his emotions and his needs, despite the fact that the genesis of their friendship was strained to say the least. "What's up?" she asked him.

He shook his head, suddenly not wanting to unload all of his insecurities, especially in such a public setting. "Nothing, just...no, I mean it's honestly nothing. I'm just thinking too much and it's ruining my mood a little."

She frowned. "I think we both know that when you say that 'nothing' is wrong, it's a total lie and you're pretty much asking for me to meddle and ask you what the matter is."

He chuckled at the accuracy, but stayed firm in his previous statement. "It's honestly just me being dumb."

"I'd very much like to be the judge of that."

He turned to her, stared at her critically for a moment, and then turned his eyes to the thong of guests in the hall. Men and women were dragging each other into the middle of the large hall, pulling each other close for some dancing whilst the musicians in the corner began their sets for the evening. A few guests were mingling on the fringes of the the hall, keeping their heads pressed close and speaking in whispers. There was no reason to be suspicious, but he kept his eyes on all of them anyway when he leaned his head towards hers and muttered, "Can you keep a secret?"

She raised a brow. "Is this really that serious?" she asked with a tone of disbelief.

He looked guiltily in his lap. "I mean...no, I guess. But I kinda don't want it to get around. Least of all in front of everyone in here. Gossipers, every last one of them."

She cringed at that news. "Ew. Point taken. Alright, I'll keep mum. What's the matter?"

He turned to her completely and spoke tiredly. "My girlfriend left me."

The news was probably pretty surprising — he hadn't thought to expect that or not — because she immediately jolted in her chair and turned towards him. "Wait, what? Are you serious?"

He didn't know quote how to respond to her shock. "Er...yeah?"

"You guys were totally fine, weren't you?" she prompted. "The two of you didn't _sound_ like anything was wrong…" She shook her head and looked at him accusingly. "Wait, why didn't I know about this? Do any of our friends know about this? Way to keep me in the loop," she scowled.

"No, no," he clarified quickly. "It happened recently, and by recently, I mean yesterday."

Her eyes widened and she cursed quietly to herself. "Damn. I kind of thought that would be an airtight relationship. What happened?"

He shrugged pathetically and actually slumped in his chair, thankful that no one was paying close enough attention to him anymore. "So did I, and I don't know," he replied helplessly.

"Okay," she frowned. "Rule number one of dealing with men: when they say 'I don't know what happened,' it's because something usually _did_ happen and they just didn't realize that they messed up."

He took offense to that. "I actually didn't do anything!" he insisted.

"Well, she very well didn't just break up with you because she was looking for a little excitement in her life," she admonished. "What did she say?"

"I…." he sighed in defeat and decided to straighten up and lean his elbows on the table in front of him. Gathering that he wasn't going to eat any of the leftovers on his plate, a servant came and bussed the plate away, leaving him with ample space to wallow and think about an event that was still a little too fresh. "She made it sound like I was paying more attention to my duties than her. But that's ridiculous! I have an important job. What I do affects the whole world. I can't just abandon my work."

But she was already shaking her head in disappointment, looking ready to impart some worldly female wisdom on him that he desperately needed. "I don't know, I think your girlfriend had a point."

"What you do mean she had a _point_?" he asked. "What else was I supposed to do to prevent this from happening?"

She merely shrugged in response. "Probably should have set aside more time for her. She felt neglected. You weren't giving her enough of your attention. So she left you."

"But I just got through explaining to you that there's nothing that I can do to — "

"Yeah, I heard what you said," she interrupted before he delved into another rant about his actions. "All I'm saying is that she wanted more from you. What she wanted, you couldn't really give. So doesn't it make sense that things ended? Spirits, it even sounds like it was probably best that it _did_ end."

He pondered over her words carefully and tried to make sense of them. "So...I shouldn't be upset because this was inevitable?"

"You guys were incompatible," she replied simply, as if all of this were merely a simple puzzle that they had just solved. "Move on."

"Move on?" he repeated in shock. "Aren't you going to ask me if I'm okay?"

"Not really," she answered honestly.

He was floored by that answer, and not in a good way. He sort of expected her to be a little bit more understanding. It was why he confided in her. "Gee, thanks."

"I don't think that what's bothering you is the fact that you lost your girlfriend," she clarified. "What I think is bothering you is _why_ she broke up with you. So I'll repeat my previous question: what's up?"

He didn't answer right away, instead choosing to fruitlessly narrow his eyes at her in a way that he knew wouldn't affect her. He couldn't exactly say that she was _wrong_. But at the same time, it wasn't fair to say that he was completely unaffected by losing his girlfriend. They had known each other for a very long time and he was positive that the emotions they felt for each other leaned more towards love than just mere fondness. It was why he was a little shocked that he had taken the event so well and was instead so hyper focused on her reasons for leaving him. He was too involved with his duties that he didn't have enough time for anything else — even love.

Was he not equipped to balance responsibilities and love?

"I'm afraid I can't have both," he finally spoke aloud. "My responsibilities and the ability to love — I'm not sure that they can coexist. I mean, look at what happened. Responsibility won out. What if it's always going to win out?"

She tried to placate him. "Look, your girlfriend — well, ex-girlfriend, I guess — she needed a certain amount of love that you couldn't give. You might run into someone else who will understand."

"But how long will that take?" he bemoaned, afraid to even ponder the answer to that question. "Plus what if the little bit of love I'm capable of giving isn't enough for anyone?"

She shrugged, and he suspected she felt a little unequipped to answer such personal questions about him. "Try harder next time."

"I know," he sighed dejectedly. "I know I could. But I'm afraid to prioritize personal feelings over responsibility. I know what that's like, and I know the damage that it can do. I'm afraid if I care too much, I'll lose track of the goals. But if I keep too good a handle on my goals, I won't have enough room to find love in anyone else." He suddenly felt the urge to act like a child for once and tuck his knees into his chest and curl up on his chair.

They were both quiet for a long time. It seemed that even she was struck silent over the ponderings that he had been balancing back and forth in his head ever since he saw his now-ex-girlfriend literally walk out of the door without looking back. It wasn't as if he was always looking for a romantic love. It was something that sounded nice and something that he wanted in a detached sort of way that came with wanting things you've never had before. But once it was in his grasp, it felt lovely and strong and _right_. He knew he wanted it. It wasn't an issue of trying to align his interests and wants. He was just worried about keeping it, and now he was doubly worried about finding it again.

He knew he wanted to have that feeling again — if not to serve his selfish purposes, then just to practice trying to be two types of people at once. Surely he can be a worker and a lover while being equally faithful to both, right?

It _had_ to be possible. He just didn't know the formula for making it happen.

A quiet sigh broke the silence between them and his companion finally spoke. "That sounds complicated. I can't say I know what you're talking about, but I will say this." Her tone was suddenly serious — the most serious it had been since they began speaking with each other — and his ears perked up in anticipation. "You're making it sound like there's even a choice to make when there isn't. You're making up this whole nonsense about having to choose responsibilities and love, and you're the one placing them on a scale against each other. I think you're just being broody and bitter like you tend to be when things don't quite go your way. You're overcomplicating it. Just pick up and try again. It isn't like this was your one and only chance at happiness."

He smiled, thankful for honest advice. It was what he was waiting for from her. "You make it sound so easy."

"Well, you make it sound so hopeless," she countered. "No one got anywhere by complaining about things. They get somewhere by doing something about it."

He shrugged. "It's just not fair. It always feels like I'm sacrificing something. Every day, all the time, just giving up one thing in order to have another."

"No offense, but that's _everyone's_ life," she informed him. "Life's an exercise in giving and taking."

"But how do I know how much to give and how much to take back?"

"Who knows?" she replied honestly. "I guess that's the sort of thing you have to test out for yourself. Again, you have to go out there and give it another shot if you really want some answers."

He didn't have anything well formulated enough to answer back with, so he allowed her to keep talking. "Look I know you're upset, and I'm sorry you lost your girlfriend," she apologized in a rare show of compassion. "But shake it off, man. Now you can both get what you need. It's a win-win."

A win-win. He hadn't quite thought about it that way. Break-ups always seemed to be tinged in negativity to him. Perhaps they still were, but he hadn't thought to think that break-ups occurred for reasons — oftentimes, good ones. If what his girlfriend was feeling was well-founded, then that means they really weren't good for each other. So wasn't it better that they had broken up so that they can grow and improve as people somewhere else?

It was an optimistic answer. It was helpful and gave him hope, but he wasn't quite used to that optimism, and he certainly hadn't been expected to get it now. Still, he certainly wasn't complaining. If anything, now he felt like he had a slight leg to stand on. "That's pretty optimistic of you."

"I wouldn't say it's _optimistic_ necessarily," she amended. "Just me trying to use hopeful logic. That usually works on you, I've noticed."

"Isn't using hopeful logic being optimistic?"

"Shush. Don't argue semantics with me."

"Fair enough," he chuckled. "Still, you said I have to go out there and try again. I don't even know how. She was — well, she had always been there for me, and we'd always been friends. It's easy to start off of that and work up towards a relationship. I don't know how to do that by starting off fresh with no base."

She drummed her fingers quickly on the arms of her chair and popped up on her feet, turning her body to him. "Well, I'd recommend starting with mingling with the crowd. Back to my original point, you're supposed to be talking to people at least. Grab the daughter of some important noble and get on someone's good side. Maybe meet someone you like," she finished with a smirk.

"Ugh, I really don't think tonight's the night for matchmaking," he groaned.

"Then forget matchmaking," she offered. "Just...relax. Talk. Dance. Let loose a little bit. You sitting here like a tragedy isn't helping. Hell, you might find yourself another girlfriend." He still wasn't moving, so she rolled her eyes and offered one of her hands. "If you want, you can dance with me first. But only once. And only because you're acting miserable and you look like you need it. And don't mention this to anyone!"

He observed the offered hand carefully, but still looked out at the crowd of dancers and guests that were now growing increasingly amiable as the drinks from the kitchen kept coming and as the hour of the night grew later. It might be a disaster. It might be wonderful. He might meet no one. He might meet someone special. She was right about one thing: one can't know the result of something they haven't tried. At the very least, it might take his mind off of all his saddened thoughts.

"You know, I do have a scar," he teased, trying to lighten the mood and really take her advice to heart. "Despite the fact that I'm royalty, some women might not be able to get past the fact that I've got burnt skin going across half of my face."

She seemed to ignore the insecure comment in the best way she knew how — she pulled him out of his chair and started leading him to the dance floor. "Well, you're lucky that I don't care about stuff like appearances and such anyway. I'm blind."


End file.
